Army of Darkness

I'm convinced The Cheesecake Factory puts addictive substances in their massive portions. Pastas seasoned with cocaine, salmon covered in both herbs and herb, pastries with layers of heroin mixing in with the cream cheese. You ever had a Cheesecake Factory cheesecake? You totally sit back, sigh, lust for a post-orgasm cigarette. You've just eaten Harry Jones.

I'm also convinced that gnomes run the kitchen. If Willy Wonka's factory is any hint, backstage at our most prestigious suburban malls (where most of the Factories happen to be) a vast network of gnome infested tunnels run underneath, abducting humans for the advancement of their addictive pasta concoctions, raspberry sauces, fucking salt condiments. They spit you back with a drunken memory relating to alien probing and UFO's. When did we start talking about aliens? Probably when the gnome elders were concocting a vast plan to overtake the world slowly but surely in the guise of a consumerist oasis promising mass quantities of post-shopping nourishment and vice. Evildoers of the world: pay attention. The Cheesecake Factory is the LexCorp of reality.

There must be a bug within my leftovers. My computer has been taken over by yet another virus. The bug is emiting a beacon, stealing personal information and storing it within a massive database in the headquarters which happens to be in Santa's Workshop: the greatest mall distributor of them all. Santa's helpers are not cheap knockoffs relating to creepy pedophiles with children sitting on their laps being told children's most lustful hopes and wishes; it's Cheesecake Factory outposts and recon. Look at a waiter next time you're there and see if they twitch from an inserted ear piece with the voice of Egorithon the Great from the Land of Fisthcusth telling them: "Assssssk if they want morrre pieeeee. Yesssss, yesssssss. We will prevaiiiiiillllll." Notice how you will pay copious amounts of money for just two fucking pieces of food. You don't care when you're at the Factory. No, no. You will go home broke and be happy about it.

Next time you decide on visiting the Cheescake Factory know that you will be harboring a monkey on your back with the Gnome Recon Bug Seal of Approval stamped on its underbelly. You have been warned.

The Verve -- "The Drugs Don't Work"